


Possession

by sparkysparky



Series: Beacon Hills RPG [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dreaming, F/F, F/M, Fantasy, M/M, Masturbation, Sexual Experimentation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-13
Updated: 2012-10-13
Packaged: 2017-11-16 05:00:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/535786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkysparky/pseuds/sparkysparky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has a very active fantasy life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possession

**Author's Note:**

> This is another narrative from my Beacon Hills RPG that works well on its own. Important to note is that within the game, a Succubus has been roaming around giving people VERY detailed dreams of their wildest desires. This takes place just before the Succubus decides to possess Stiles to evade the Hunters for awhile. (Game comm is located at http://beacon_hills.insanejournal.com, where many more shenanigans are taking place.)

The dream starts normally, as dreams always do. They're at the beach: he, Scott and Emery. Just like the old days. Emery is wrestling Scott into the waves, both of them laughing. Stiles drifts closer, curious because the wrestling is starting to look more and more like the _fun_ sort of wrestling, and that's new. Yep, definitely the fun sort of wrestling because Scott's hands are on her breasts and her legs are around his waist. They're kissing, the dirtybadwrong sort of kissing that Stiles has never experienced first hand but has always thought looked so fun. Even over the sound of the waves he can hear the moans, the cries of pleasure as Scott's lips trail down until he finds a nipple. Stiles can't look away, even though he should because this is his cousin and the boy who is his brother in everything but blood, but he can't. They're beautiful together and he's drawn closer. 

Scott looks up, catches his eye over Em's shoulder. "You should join us," he says, and suddenly all three of them are back on the beach, splayed out over towels and sand, one big pile of arms and legs. They push Stiles to his back, and Emery sits on his legs to keep him from moving. He struggles anyway, against the hold Scott has on his arms, but it's futile. 

Come on now," Emery says, voice smokey and smooth and it makes him instantly hard. "You don't really want to get away? Do you?" She leans down, red hair skimming the towel. Her lips brush over his cock through the material of his swimsuit, and he notices that the hair is a lighter shade of red now. "Isn't this what you've always wanted?" Lydia asks, smirking up at him as her hand slowly work his swim trunks down and off. "I know you've jerked off a thousand times to me. I like it, the thought that I have that much power over you." 

Stiles can only moan as she sucks him in, never breaking eye contact. Her mouth is wet and hot, so tight around his cock that he can barely breathe. "Lydia, oh my god," he croaks, hips trying to buck up off the towel, but she holds him in place firmly. He aches to reach down, tangle his hands in her hair, but he can't. His arms are still being pinned above his head, and when he looks back Danny is smirking at him. 

"No touching," he teases, leaning down so his face is a breath away from Stiles'. "You've been a naughty boy, Stiles. This is your punishment." Danny moves so he's straddling Stiles' chest, blocking his view of Lydia. Stiles opens his mouth to voice his disapproval of this, but can't manage more than a muffled shout as Danny moves forward and slips the tip of his cock into Stiles' mouth. "That's a good boy. You've wanted this too, haven't you? So many nights you've thought about this, about sucking me off. About me fucking you. Such a greedy boy." 

Stiles moans around Danny's cock, never having imagined how much he'd like this, the hard length of someone else's cock stretching his mouth wide. His jaw hurts already, but Danny doesn't seem to notice or if he does he doesn't care. He slowly slides another inch in, just as Lydia does something with her tongue that has Stiles seeing stars. The sensations are warring against each other, too much to handle, and he feels the tingling in his toes start--

When he opens his eyes he's in his room, lying naked on his bed. Just a dream then, he thinks. His cock is still hard, leaking against his stomach. He draws in a deep, shuddering breath to try to control his breathing. "What the fuck self," he muttered, struggling into a half sitting position. He's sweating, even though the room is cool from the open window. He can still feel the phantom sensations of Lydia's mouth around his cock, of _Danny's_ cock in his mouth, and he flushes all over. He can admit to himself that he's angry he woke up before he had a chance to give his first blow-job properly, even if it was only a dream. 

He closes his eyes, imagines that he's back on the beach and kneeling at Danny's feet. He knows, now, how it feels to wrap his lips around someone's cock, knows what it's like to feel his mouth stretched wide enough for an ache in his jaw. Reaching down, he strokes his dick quickly, twisting his wrist on the upstroke. There's a moan from the other side of his room, and his eyes fly open. "Oh my god. Derek!" His arms flail out, and he tumbles off the bed. It's not a flatterng position, made even less so by the fact that his dick is still harder than stone and leaking precum all over the place. 

"Stiles." Derek's voice is rough, tortured. "Get up." 

"Oh my god. You can't just sneak into my room and start giving orders!" Stiles glares at Derek, still on his knees. He's very aware of how naked he is right now, and of the way Derek's eyes trail down his chest and linger on his cock. Stiles' eyes go wide with sudden awareness. Derek _wants_ him. The thought makes his palms sweat and his heart (already hammering away in his chest) jumps erratically. "Or..." He bites his lower lip, and looks up at Derek. "You could give me different orders." He can't breathe after, lungs refusing to draw air in. 

Derek takes a step forward, then another, then one more until he's close enough to reach out and grip Stiles by the back of the neck. As soon as Derek's hands are on him, he can breathe again. he sucks in breath after breath, trembling in Derek's grasp. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? Being ordered around. Me telling you to suck my cock like a good little boy. Telling you to touch yourself." With his other hand Derek is yanking his zipper down, shoving his jeans to the ground and stepping out. He's not wearing underwear and his cock bumps the underside of Stiles' chin, leaving a sticky streak of precum. 

"Yeah," Stiles breathes. "I'd love that." It surprises him how much he means it. And he must be still dreaming, because Derek is smiling at him warmly, the way he smiled at the deputy at the Sheriff's office. The smiles changes his face, makes him look younger...but then it sharpens, and his face takes on the wolfish quality Stiles is so familiar with. 

The hand on his neck tightens, pulls his head back to expose his throat. Stiles can't help the needy sound that escapes, even as he wets his lips with his tongue. Derek's eyes track the movement, taking on a reddish tint. "I think I'd rather fuck you. Get on the bed." 

Derek's voice left no room to protest, but Stiles found he didn't want to. He scrambled up, crawled on the bed and lay panting on his back against the pillows. Derek moved with effortless grace until he was kneeling on the bed between Stiles' spread thighs. "Such a good boy. So willing to please me. Bet you'd let me take you right now, raw without any preparation at all." Derek was all predator as pulled Stiles up until he was in his lap, a hard cock pressed firmly between his asscheeks. It caught against his hole, sliding roughly over the puckered skin. 

With his head thrown back he lets out a moan that turns to a scream as Derek bites down on the side of his neck, not hard enough to break the skin but with enough force to leave a mark that would last for days. Derek worries the skin with very human teeth, but Stiles is aware how close to the surface the wolf must be. Derek's eyes are glowing red when he pulls back to study the mark he'd made, a sight that sends shivers down Stiles' spine. It's not an altogether pleasant feeling, but neither is it repulsive. 

Derek gave Stiles a wolfish grin, a hand coming up to press firmly against the tender spot on Stiles' neck. He couldn't help the whimper that came out, or the way his entire body arched up off the bed, aching for more of Derek's touch. "Please. I need..." He trailed off as Derek lowered his head, lips replacing fingers as he bit down again, getting a strip of Stiles' skin in his mouth, and then swiped his tongue across it without letting go. Stiles had absolutely no control over the choked, desperate sound he made in response. He felt Derek smile against his throat before realeasing him.

"Did you want something, Stiles?" Derek asked, hands trailing down Stiles' back to rest just above the dip of his spine.

"Please," Stiles groaned, and immediately flushed at the way Derek's eyes went even darker.

"Please what?" Derek asked, drawing out the word. "What do you want? You have to tell me. You have to really _want_ it, Stiles. What do you _want_?"

Stiles' throat felt thick, the words that normally came so easily lost to the moment. He opened his mouth, let out a soundless breath as Derek's fingers slid down further, closer to where Stiles really wanted them. Finally, when he could think again, the words came. "Please fuck me."

Derek didn't answer, just gave Stiles another of those wolfish grins. Before he knew what was happening, Derek had dumped him on the bed, rough hands rolling him over and urging him to his knees. Stiles' arms gave out when he felt slick fingers pressing into him, and he dropped down to rest his shoulders on the bed. 

Derek’'s left hand came down on Stiles’ hip to hold him steady while his finger pushed forward. It didn't burn as badly as he had thought it might—thank fuck for whoever invented lubrication—but it was still an alien, invasive feeling, and Stiles couldn't help tensing up.

"Shh," Derek soothed him, rubbing Stiles’ lower back calmingly. "I've got you. I own you now."

Stiles opened his mouth to tell Derek that he was fine, or protest the claim of ownership he wasn’t sure, but the words get trapped in his throat when Derek hit a shocking, intense place inside him. An incoherent, pleased noise broke from his lips instead and he spread his legs wider. He canted his hips up and back as Derek's finger slid in and out of him, unerringly hitting just the right spot to light his nerves up with trembling fire.

"That's it," Derek murmured, encouraging, and a pressed a second finger just against Stiles’s entrance.

Derek waited until Stiles was rocking back against him greedily, and then pushed the second finger forward. Stiles’ hips jerked, as both fingers slid past the outer ring of muscle, but then he made himself hold still through the spreading burn. He was sweating steadily now—part nerves, part want—and his hands keep clenching and unclenching against the sheets as he tries to hold himself up.

Derek's fingers bottomed out and he paused, giving Stiles a moment to get used to the feeling. Then, just when Stiles was starting to think that Derek would never get on with it, Derek started opening him up for real: twisting his fingers and then scissoring them a bit, and generally spreading a deep, throbbing ache through Stiles's insides. 

His hips were moving without his permission, though: rolling in tight circles in an attempt to send off more of those brilliant sparks. Derek loosened his hold on Stiles's hip and Stiles took the opportunity to rock back and forth. Derek stopped moving his fingers and let Stiles do the work, fingers sliding wetly out and in as Stiles moved forward and then back again. That glide—the feeling of being penetrated—was almost as arousing as those bursts of pleasure and Stiles dropped his head forward, making a small, helpless noise. 

Derek's hand pulled back, fingers sliding free, and when Stiles tried to follow Derek held him still. "Do you want this Stiles? Do you accept me as part of you? As one with you?” 

It took Stiles a few seconds to blink through the emptiness in his ass to understand what Derek is asking. When he figures it out, his first, instinctive answer is 'no', because there’s something odd about the phrasing. But he’s too far gone to think, to parse out what’s so wrong about belonging to Derek. To being one with Derek. A part of him. It sounds…it sounds perfect. He _wants_ it, and he nods. “Yes. Please, I want it. Derek, please.” 

Derek let out a pleased, triumphant sound. Stiles had just enough time to draw in a shuddering breath, before Derek was pressing inside him with the tip of his cock. “Mine,” Derek murmured against his ear as he pushed steadily forward until his hips met flush with Stiles’. “You’re mine now, pretty human. Mine to take, mine to use up like a pretty little toy.” 

Confused now, Stiles felt some of the pleasure melt away into fear. He tried to look over his shoulder, get a sense of what Derek was thinking, but strong, claw like hands held him down to the mattress. The cock inside him seemed to grow larger, spreading him uncomfortably, painfully wide, but a clawed hand wrapped around his cock and then Stiles was coming, screaming as his body clenched around the painful intrusion. Something was wrong, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t _think_ and then— 

The creature opened human eyes, and looked around. The human’s room was messy, and held the slightly musty scent of teenage boy. It stretched new limbs, testing how things worked in this new body. Yes, he—because it was a he now in this body—he had made a good choice. There was a lot of energy here, ripe for his use. It wouldn’t take much to gain strength here. It was a nice, unassuming shell in which to hide from Hunters and Wolves, until he had enough power to kill them all. He would have to take his time with this one, he’d burnt the last one out too fast, too soon, far too soon. 

He wouldn't be making that mistake again. This boy was his now, for as long as he wanted. For as long as he could make it last. His. 

Somehwere, locked deep inside his own mind, Stiles screamed.


End file.
